


A little bit more happiness

by dancingrose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingrose/pseuds/dancingrose
Summary: Drabble about the Golden Trio in DH, sometime after Ron returns and before Malfoy Manor.





	A little bit more happiness

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic... If you like it, let me know!

Rain lashed against the tent’s fabric walls, dampening all other sounds of the forest. A silent trio –the most wanted boy in Europe, the most beautiful girl in the universe, and himself, all just barely adults – sat together, staring at their hands. The normally stressful tension in the air had reached an all-time high. Finally, she broke the silence.

“We can’t just wander aimlessly. We’ve done nothing but capture and destroy one horcrux, and we’re nowhere close to finding another. Europe is huge – I don’t mean to sound negative, but it seems as though we’re finding a needle in a haystack. We’ve nothing to go on, no leads, no plan. We need inspiration, and I’m not finding anything.” She swallowed nervously. “Don’t go jumping down my throat, or telling me the risk, because I know. But I’ve been thinking…”

Her voice trailed off. The other two looked at her, encouragement plain on their faces.

“Hermione, what is it? Any idea is a good idea right now.” She sighed. Ron watched as a piece of hair that had fallen in her face fluttered, then dropped again. He resisted the urge to tuck it behind her ear, tuck his hand behind her head, tangle his fingers in her beautifully messy hair and kiss her, because he couldn’t. Not now, not any time soon. He had lost all of her trust in him when he Disapparated into a different rainstorm, had left her out there alone in the elements while he returned to a safe house and a warm bed. He regretted the decision ever since; it had cost him his heart. And now, when his broken subconscious shouted out, he had not a notion of how to shut himself up.

“I—I think we should go to the Burrow. Check in with the news, eat something not our own for once. Make sure your family is alright, Ron, and give them hope that we’re still alive and fighting. After all, hope is something everyone is short of these days.”

He wanted to, so badly. He wanted to see Bill again, as well as Charlie; mess around with the twins, and ruffle little Ginny’s hair – although nowadays she wasn’t so little, since he’d caught her and Harry snogging by the lake at Hogwarts the previous year – but mostly, he just wanted to be home. He wanted to so badly his chest hurt. But Ron already knew his answer, though it nearly broke his heart to say it.

“No, Hermione, I’m sorry. I want to, seriously, but we have to stay hidden. If we go, we put not only the family at risk, but also ourselves and the entire wizarding world with it. When this whole thing is over, I don’t know when, but we can go wherever we want. Just not now.”

Her face fell, the brown strand of hair with it once again. Her narrow shoulders slumped dejectedly, and Ron, feeling bad, scooted over to where she was sitting and hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder. Hermione didn’t throw it off, so he put his whole arm around her shoulders, and gently hugged her. She was shaking. Harry, looking uncomfortable, spoke up.

“If the two of you don’t mind, I’ll go outside to keep watch.”

Muttering a spell under his breath and tapping his glasses with his wand, he stood up and left the tent. Hermione continued to cry quietly, leaning into Ron’s arms and putting her head on his shoulder. He awkwardly patted her head and made soothing noises into her hair. When she finally lifted her head up, there were tear tracks running down through the dirt on her face. Ron tucked the rebellious strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s just not fair. There’s so much we should be able to do; go to Hogwarts, communicate with others, see your family, yet simply because of the evil in the world taking charge we can’t. We can’t do anything! What were we thinking, running off into the wilderness to save the world without a plan or a mentor or even good food, and we haven’t—”

Ron put his finger to her lips, effectively cutting off her outpouring of grief. He stared into her teary brown eyes, losing himself in their depth, and whispered to her softly.

“We’ll be alright, Hermione, don’t worry. We’re right here, right now, just trust me.”

She gazed back at him, vulnerable, angelic, beautiful beyond words. Confused, yet determined. She opened her mouth once more to say something, but he didn’t want to hear it.

“Shhhh.” Ron leaned forward even farther, cutting her off and pressing his mouth against hers, which formed her unspoken words then went still and soft. Hermione tensed up against his encircling arms for several seconds, then melted against him once more, returning the gentle kiss. She still shook like a leaf in the wind, but Ron held her steady, and slowly she fully let go. He buried his hand in her dirty, messy hair, drawing it around their faces like a curtain, and held her face close to his. She craned her head up, closing her eyes, and Ron could feel her smiling slightly, taste the mint on her breath—

Crack!

The sound of several people Apparating startled the two of them apart, Hermione smacking the side of her head sickeningly on the bedpost. Then an unfamiliar voice, rough and loud, froze them.

“I dunno why anyone would bother with this place, it’d be suicide in this storm, here.”

The voice sounded several yards away, just outside their protective spells. Hermione, terrified, started whispering to Ron.

“Wha-what if they hear us? What if they see Harry, or our footprints, or the protective spells don’t work, or—”

“’Mione, it sounds like they’re just Snatchers, and bad ones at that. Don’t worry, you’re smart enough to keep us safe from a couple of flobberworm-headed idiots. They won’t find us; they never will when you’re in charge. We’re alright.”

Multiple loud cracks echoed around the little clearing, leaving silence in their wake.

“See, they’re gone. Your brilliance saved us, yet again. Come here, ‘Mione, let me – bloody hell!”

Her hairline at her temple was sticky with blood, a jagged cut visible under her hair.

“What? What happened?” She asked anxiously. Ron marveled at her lack of reaction to pain.

“You – actually, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Turn around just for a bit, and can you hand me the bag? Better yet, get me the essence of dittany.” When Hermione had retrieved the small brown bottle and was standing back in front of him, he combed her hair to one side with his fingers, trying not to hurt her any more than she already was and cringing whenever his fingers touched blood. “Bloody hell, this is difficult. Come back a bit more,” he instructed quietly. As she complied, he poured the dittany over the back of her head, sighing when her skin began knitting itself back together. He wiped off the blood on her forehead and cheek, and tugged her face gently to face him once more. “See, you’re fine. I’m just dandy, and we’re only a little damp from this dismal rain. We’ve got half the Horcruxes destroyed, and we’re on our way to find another one soon, I can just feel it—”

Hermione gave a small sigh that almost sounded like a sob, and spoke quietly as she turned around. “I don’t want to talk about Horcruxes and Voldemort and the end of the world. I just want to be a normal witch with a normal boyfr—” She stopped, clamping her hands over her mouth and turning a deep pink. Ron grinned, though inside he was shouting out in joy.

“Was that word going to end up being ‘boyfriend’, ‘Mione? Who in particular were you thinking of?”

But she didn’t respond, instead biting her lip, and a moment later his eyes closed yet again as the taste of mint seeped into his mouth, and with it came a pair of arms around his neck and then she pulled away and spoke softly, quietly, as if revealing a secret for the very first time.

“You. It was always you in my dreams, nobody else. Just you.”

Ron could feel his lips turning up, could feel Hermione’s racing heart against his own chest, could hear himself sounding slightly surprised when he said the same in return, and then was lost once more in the perfect imperfection that was the bane of his existence and the newly-found love of his life.

— — —

It felt like several hours after the Snatchers left, but when the last remaining echo finally faded away, Harry could hear murmured conversation, a bit worried, a bit tender, between his two best friends inside the tent. He left them alone for several minutes, expecting them to have fallen asleep, but when he quietly opened the tent flap he found that they were neither talking nor sleeping. The two of them were intertwined, swaying, their faces hidden in Hermione’s bushy hair but obviously pressed together. Harry, smiling softly, closed the tent flap once more and sat against the hard ground once again, but now with just a little more hope and happiness than before.


End file.
